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miércoles, 23 de mayo de 2012

Second morning


Second morning

For the strong roots of the walnut
Those which were only seen in furniture
To accede to the roots of the water hyacinth
Those which short life was witnessed

One morning that wasn’t sacred
On the bank of a river that didn’t divide
But it only hided the underground link
Of a multitude of souls with a simple destiny

Being in his hands, also passed through others
Perhaps more skillful but much weaker
Transforming both realities into just one situation
Where a beginner would find a concurrence

When two planets don’t converge in a curve
But do in position before the star guiding them
Whose seed was retained within for centuries
Waiting for the blessings of their own kind.

Continuing to present everything
For not representing anything
Of the picture of your own life
Of the writing of your own words

Defeating the struggle of intentions
Detached from the sorrowful logic
Of those things that so sensibly
Bear those other same things
Once and again as if in steadiness
It is included a part of the beauty that permits
And in it isn’t always present the severe condemnation
Of the conscious effort in respect to the talent received

The little pain that will always be provoked
To look at sides searching for each other
The last game of vanity which faithful caress
Seems so sweet for who is ready to leave

That tests in the acquired skill
Where once a while was useful to position
And from it is already known that nothing will remain
When in opening the door he can start the course
With the deep smile of one who doesn’t fear to the hours.